Not Even Close
by Astrid Dalgaard
Summary: Human AU 1970 No... Françoise didn't hate the Russian... She despised him. Loathed him. She basically wanted to kick him in his crotch. And then the reunion happened. The dreadful reunion. Somehow she got out alive, and yet she wished she hadn't. Would things be different if she didn't go to Paris? Probably not. [I don't own Hetalia, nor the image. Rating will change due to gore]
1. Prolouge

So yeah this may sound really cute and sweet and all angst but this is gonna turn out like Corpse Party near the end. Enjoy!

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"Go away- _Beauf_ " The strange woman puffed out a strange coloured smoke, as she looked to the side, eyes probably on the glowing buildings to the south. Paris was such a delight in the late 1970s, and the lights danced to Edith Piaf's famous 'La vie en rose'

Françoise really didn't care. She also didn't care about the broad-shouldered man standing next to her. She didn't even shiver the slightest bit when he went out to touch her shoulder. She simply waved it off. "I don't have time, Ivan-" She scowled at him, but he just smiled.

"How many times do I have to say that my name is Vanya?" He said in a sarcastic tone. Only a faint whiff of his Russian accent could be detected, perhaps he was inheriting the smooth French tone of Paris.

" _Je vais se crever le cul_." She growled, pushing his face away with her hands, not daring to look him in the eye. How long would it be before he would go away? She knew it was a horrible idea to go to this reunion party- After all, she had business to be attending to.

He stood there for a second, eyebrows arched. "I've lived in Paris long enough to know what your petty insults mean." He said it so sweetly that it was almost as if he was complimenting her appearance instead of insulting her words.

First of all, Françoise was the CEO of a luxury fashion brand. If she ever wanted to hook up with some Russian maniac- Which I remind you she didn't- She wouldn't even dream of seeing the next light of day. Second, she didn't even like him. The only time they were intimate was in high school, and they hadn't even kissed. Not even once.

The list went on and on, but she didn't have time to name all them. Successfully managing to throw the brute of his balance, she stormed off into the dance hall, where she could see all her high school friends dancing to-a-fro, without a single care in the world.

Lucky for her. Now she would have to walk in the middle of hundreds of people dancing. And it was also a slow dance. Amazing.

"Wait-" She heard a male voice call out. Not again.

Françoise lifted part of her skirt up, and made a mad dash through the dancers, muttering a few 'excuse me' and 'very sorry'-s here and there. Why did it have to be here. Why couldn't it have been the Chinese man who always sat in the back- Who everyone thought was dating Ivan and made her break up with him.

Or the uncontrollable American, who seemed to have an eye for deep voices and thick accents. They always got 'along' very well, so there wasn't any reason that they couldn't be together. She has seen them do things many times together- Mostly out of spite.

And why the hell did she even attend a Boy's Boarding School? Specifically an international one?

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Je vais se crever le cul - I'm going to kick you in the ass

Beauf - Oaf


	2. Chapter 1

Um to that Guest that reviewed this- PM and we can talk about everything! I have a bunch of stuff headed towards this, and I'm probably gonna post a few words (400-500) everyday so yeah.

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"Je revois la ville en fête et en délire

Suffoquant sous le soleil et sous la joie

Et j'entends dans la musique les cris, les rires

Qui éclatent et rebondissent autour de moi

Et perdue parmi ces gens qui me bousculent

Étourdie, désemparée, je reste là

I see the city in celebration and delirious

Suffocating under the sun and in the joy

And I hear in the music screams, laughs

Bursting bounce around me

And lost among the people who upset me

Stunned, helpless, I am still here "

Françoise scowled as she was forcibly grabbed and ushered into a slow dance. She hated this man. She dreaded his accent, and wanted to cut his vocalbox out. She couldn't even think about how she ever ended up dating him in the first place. Or how he even found her.

"Your grip is strong." She whispered charmingly. Maybe if she just went along with the play, she'd finally get out. He nodded at her, not even muttering a single word. She dug her nails into his shoulder. Finally those long _things_ would have some use.

Vanya scowled. "Keep it up and I'll throw you to the ground." He hissed into her ear. She had to resist throwing _him_ to the ground. The gut he had to lean close near her like that- Maybe if she smacked him he'd have a taste of his own medicine.

"You whiny baby- Just come with me." She threw her hands up in the air before moving from the dance floor to another balcony. She was quite glad for the horrendous number of balconies in the room, and that it was on the highest floor in the building. She could see the Eiffel Tower from the marble terrace, and it was lighted up with pink lights.

"It took you that long to realize- Hm?" He smirked, putting a hand around her waist, and grabbing her right. He plopped down on one of the chairs on the terrace, the impact sending her into his lap. She obviously had no escape now. She was disgusted by the smell of alcohol in his breath.

Perhaps that was why he was acting that way.

"Mon dieu- Ivan." She gasped. His grip on her waist made it hard for her to breath. She was wearing a corset too- God forbid. Her delicate hands tried prying him off her. No use. And it was even more disgusting that she could feel how he played with her hair and whispered in her ear.

 _Disgusting._


End file.
